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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652795">shakedown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_bit_vintage/pseuds/a_bit_vintage'>a_bit_vintage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, F/M, Reader is a librarian, mafia!au, mafia!bucky, mobster! bucky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_bit_vintage/pseuds/a_bit_vintage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shakedown: (verb) to blackmail or try to get money from someone; also to give someone a scare.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/ Reader, bucky barnes/ reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite its massive population, New York was full of gossip. Everyone knew at least one somebody who knew another somebody who could tell you where to go to get what you wanted. Perhaps it was a little assuring. Never had it occurred to you that you might miss the essence of the small town you left in the dust, so the gossip would have to serve as a small comfort. </p><p>People in New York seemed to notice the new girl in town, that or you were seriously inept at navigating the concrete jungle (most likely both). Some offered a helping hand while others pushed on as if you were but an ant and they were a boot. Life was bustling in the city and it truly never slept. Something was always happening somewhere and for that you were grateful.The very design of the city lent itself to escaping the thoughts that seemed to creep in uninvited. </p><p>Your apartment often served as your place of refuge when the hustle and bustle became overwhelming. It was an apartment in the most basic of terms which is to say that it was a shoebox. There wasn't really a living room, just an open space with a closet and bathroom. A kitchen to your right and the wall where your mattress lay on the floor to your left. Simple. That's all you really needed. Based upon the complaints of your co-workers you'd heard around the water cooler, you'd managed to score a decent set up. 

 </p><p>Some nights when the weather was fair, you'd haul your mattress out to the patio that moonlighted as a fire escape and basked in the evening glow. A glass of wine occasionally accompanied the experience but for the most part you simply enjoyed the city. The city shined at night, especially once it got dark and a whole new group emerged to go out on the town either ending or beginning their day.</p><p>It was on your fire escape, stretched along the mattress overlooking the alleyway below that you first saw him and-without being overly dramatic-your life changed forever. The city was always loud, a stark contrast to the quite serenity of your former home. Hisses and honks often echoed throughout the night. Tonight was no different. </p><p>A book in hand, cup of tea to the side, you went about your evening. Occasionally a stray cat would hiss or someone would walk by with their dog. Rarely did someone wave or even bother to look up (not that you would have seen them anyway). You reasoned in a city as large as this, surely stranger things had been witnessed than a girl on her balcony. </p><p>The sun that peeked around the endless rows of buildings offered a much appreciated reprieve to the sterile florescent lighting that you were subjected to at the office. Warmth from the sun soon started to lull an easy sleepiness over you. Pair a lovely summer evening with the stress from a long week, you found your eyes fluttering shut and lulled you to sleep.  This would be your first mistake of the evening.</p><p>As sunlight gave away too darkness, you awoke with a start. A brief panic rushed through you until your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Sitting up ever so slightly to adjust to your surroundings, you let out a sigh of relief. You were safe. you just needed a moment to recover before hauling your stuff back into the apartment.</p><p>As you stretched,  you saw a shiny black town car creep to a stop in the alley. Odd but surely not anything to be considered about, right? Nosiness, curiosity, pure stupidity? You weren't entirely sure, but you were convinced that yes you needed to stay out here and see what juicy gossip would unfold. </p><p>The door to the town car opened revealing a man in, based off the dull street lights illuminating him, a pin stripe suit. Classy. Blonde hair slicked back, scruff of a beard, and broad shoulders certainly made him an attractive presence. He crossed his arms escalating the situation ever so slightly. </p><p>Lost in a fog of fear and anticipation, you had missed the arrival of a second man by foot. The second man, also well dressed, had long dark hair that melted into the night, a harsh contrast from his pale skin. "Captain." He all but purred his greeting. </p><p>"Loki." </p><p>"I come with an offer. I'll be blunt, my brother has teamed up with Stark which, well" a dismissive hand gesture. "In exchange for protection, I'll give up some territory." </p><p>The blonde nodded briefly. Before chuckling ever so slightly, amused by some sort of inside joke. "And when you double cross us again?" </p><p>"Then, my dear Captain, you can clip me." </p><p>Oh shit, you thought, this has taken a turn. You hadn't realized you were wolfing your breath until you gasped. The sound, you prayed, dissolved into the night as merely just another part of the city's symphony. Both men seemed to still but made didn't look up towards you.</p><p>They shook on their deal and you waited until both had left the alley before you dared move an inch. Looking back, your mistake would be obvious. In a hurry to pull your mattress inside, you knocked the tea cup over shards to the street below. You were thankful it was empty and hadn't stained the mattress. </p><p>Locked in the safety of your apartment, you were blissfully unaware of the second sweep of the street by the town car. Steve crouched down and inspected the shattered porcelain, eyes trailing upwards to your apartment, lights on and spilling through the blinds. </p><p>Swearing under his breath, he reached into his pocket pulling out his phone. "Hey Buck, I think we got a problem."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ii.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The shakedown begins.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James Buchanan Barnes liked to think he was something of an expert problem solver. He always had a knack for getting out of trouble-almost a strong a talent as his ability to get into trouble but that was neither here nor there. Since he was a child, he was looking out for others and doing whatever means necessary to look out for those he cared about. Becca needed school supplies? He'd mow lawns. Stevie couldn't afford his inhaler? Bucky pawned his pocket knife. </p><p>Bucky handled things. Prior to life as a made man (and in his time proving himself) he handled a lot of things. He did time as a clipper and found he had a very good aim. With each kill he was an entirely different person. Once he became a made man, he worked his ass off and built his own goddamn empire. With a family he made entirely on his own, he became a king; he became the boss. </p><p>As the boss, a man  in his position oversees a variety of business. So when Stevie called, he knew it was yet another thing to handle. </p><p>"What kind of trouble, Steve?" </p><p>There was a pause. "Better come on down yourself. Might be worth your time." </p><p>So Bucky took his bike and  left his brownstone and headed to the apartments he had stored as a slush fund (that's another story for another day). Lighting a cigarette, he kicked the kickstand down on his motor cycle before approaching Steve. "Doesn't seem to be a problem." </p><p>Steve tossed Bucky a look that was just a smidge too fond to be a scowl. He hated when Bucky smoked. Maybe it was jealousy from having had such shitty lungs or maybe it was the great fear of losing him. "There's a little bird." He pointed to the apartment window you called home. </p><p>"Yeah?" Bucky hadn't scored in a while, could make use of the situation. </p><p>"Heard something fall while I was negotiating with Loki, think the little bird made herself a nest outside." </p><p>"Is she stupid?" Bucky didn't think he knew anybody who would sleep out on their balcony in New York City. Or at least do it willingly. He and Steve had their fair shares of nights outdoors when their families were too poor to afford air. </p><p>Steve shrugged carelessly. "Hell if I fucking know. She waited till we were gone to run back inside, saw the light on as I circled the block." </p><p>"You think she heard?" Bucky asked scratching as his beard. </p><p>"Most likely." Steve crossed his arms, waiting patiently for orders. His blue eyes widened so suddenly it almost made Bucky laugh. "I found this too, went snooping under her window." Reaching into his pocket he drew out a chipped piece of porcelain. </p><p>Looking it over, Bucky raised an eyebrow, "She drop it?" </p><p>"That's what it's looking like. Teacup maybe?" There was a pause, "What's the plan?" </p><p>You were probably a young one, filled with hopes and dreams of starting anew in New York. Most likely harmless. Threat level was low. Potentially a snitch. Also potentially hot. "Let's just give her a good shakedown for now." </p><p>After a night of restless sleep, you scurried about your apartment trying your best to get ready for the day. Every time you'd make the slightest bit of progress, a wave of emotion would crash through you. You weren't scared necessarily, the previous evenings events certainly hadn't directly involved you nor posed any immediate danger to you. But was it legal? Fairly certain that was a big no. </p><p>Organized crime was outdated though, right? Something long forgotten and kept alive through Hollywood. The Sopranos wasn't taking place in your apartment building. Were you required to report it? Did you have plausible deniability? To snitch or not to snitch remained the question at hand.  </p><p>As you went about your morning commute, you remained unaware of the red head that trailed you. You didn't see her snapping photos or talking to Clint. You certainly didn't see her sneak into the employee entrance. Despite the previous evening, you managed to go about life as normal and that proved to be your second mistake, or third, whose keeping track at this point? </p><p>"Morning Mary!" You chirped entering the library. Every morning you were determined to make the old hag smile and every morning you got the same look that edged on happy. </p><p>"Story time is at 10." The usual reply. Everything seemed fine. So you sat your stuff down and went about preparing the children's library for the day. Dutifully, you arranged the book display for the day, moving the books around in a way that would hopefully engage some of them. You laid out the rainbow mats for the kids to sit on and searched the snack cubbies for the alleged free ones. </p><p>As the little ones rolled in, you forgot all about the two men in the alley and hoped they forgot all about the evening as well. </p><p>Except they didn't forget. Or at least Bucky didn't. Legs propped up on his desk, crossed at the ankle, he waited for Natasha with Steve. He puffed on a cigar as Natasha entered the room without so much as a knock. </p><p>"Sweetheart, you know I need you to knock." </p><p>Red lips curled into a sultry grin. "Don't sweetheart me, Barnes."she said, her accent thick. She gently eased herself into one of the leather chairs that faced him, "You know I don't respond well to that." </p><p>"Forgive me, my dear." He teased a wolfish smile. "What did you find out about our little bird?"</p><p>The report from Natasha was thorough, everything about you rolling off her tongue. Name (Bucky couldn't help but test it out on his lips), age, income, everything.</p><p>"A librarian?" </p><p>Nat shook her head. "Children's librarian. Everyone else in that building were stuffy, looked dead inside." </p><p>"Huh." He leaned back in his chair, inviting Nat closer with a pat on his thighs. </p><p>"In your dreams, boss." She smirked glancing over to Steve. "Might take Cap for a ride later." Steve's cheeks turned the softer shade of pink. "Besides, if I were you I'd consider the librarian if I were you."</p><p>Bucky smirked, drumming his fingers on the large cherry desk he sat behind. "I think I might just spice this shakedown up a bit."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A suspicious package arrives.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nearly two weeks passed before Bucky was able to introduce himself. Things got chaotic, they always did when Loki and his brother Thor were involved. Bucky spent days strategizing and negotiating before a pleasant peace treaty and paycheck were in his favor. His priorities might not have included you, but he certainly found himself thinking of you. </p><p>In the beginning, he devote considerably time to pondering the simple, innocent things about you. Did you prefer coffee or tea? (Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, iced preferably) What books did you like to read? (A sucker for a gothic novel, something old with rich language. Beautiful modern writers including Toni Morrison were not uncommon on your bookshelf) How did you smell? (The shift to the more personal. A juicy apple scent from some college girls store). </p><p>Then, especially on nights when he retreated to his empty brownstone and had just a bit too much bourbon, he let his thoughts wander. Were you a virgin? Seemed innocent enough but maybe you had that sexy librarian thing going on behind the scenes. How did you taste? How did you feel? His hands wound jerk the belt off his slacks, yank the zipper down, and trail his hands down to pull on his dick. Fuck he was lonely and you were there. </p><p>After the fourth night of desperate moans and tugs by his own hands, he decided that it was time to visit his apartments. He made the arrangements in advance, taking great care to order the exact teacup and fork over the cost of rush delivery so it would arrive just in time. Scott was all too eager to have Buck swing by, still in awe and in gratitude for his position. </p><p>"Hiya boss!" Scott wore a Hawaiian shirt and jeans as he fumbled around the leasing office in a effort to meet Bucky at the threshold. </p><p>Bucky flashed a genuine smile, clapping Scott on the shoulder. "How's Cassie? Hitting the books?" </p><p>The beam of pride that radiated off Scott was enough to spark that underlying instinct that echoed through Barnes (an heir? A princess that followed after him? A momma's boy that clung  to his mother's leg in the kitchen? A family to protect?) </p><p>Bucky retreated to the desk to balance the books, Scott filled his boss in on Cassie's collegiate achievements. "Couldn't have done it without you boss!" There was the ego boost he wanted. A dismissive hand wave followed. </p><p>"She's a bright young woman, happy to help." Yeah, he was a regular ol Robin Hood. Brooklyn's answer to everything. He glanced over the bridge of his nose to the stack of packages waiting to be collected. "Lotta mail." </p><p>"Called the tenants this morning about it. Most stop in after work." </p><p>Bucky made a sound of approval, returning to the papers before him. The jingle of the bell by the door drew his attention, blue eyes scanning the lobby wildly for the object of his affection. Bingo. </p><p>"Howdy Scott!" Howdy? That was awfully endearing. No one he knew in Brooklyn was charming enough to say howdy. You weren't from around here. Family issues? He certainly wouldn't mind you calling him Big Daddy.</p><p>"Said you had a package for me?" The element of surprise was evident. There was excitement in your voice. Maybe you thought someone sent a care package, that those doors shut on you weren't sealed forever. Oh to see the look on your face. </p><p>Scott eagerly handed you over the package. An inconspicuous  little brown box that Bucky had used painstaking detail to forge. Not to mention the hours he spent searching for the right teacup. Blue light had strained his eyes late into the evening as he scoured the Internet. But he found it in a little antique store just off 3rd. </p><p>"Can't remembering ordering anything." You mumbled lifted the box for good measure, mindful of the fragile sticker on the packaging. </p><p>"Hopefully something pleasant then." If there was a growl in his tone, you hadn't heard it. Big y/e/c eyes focused in on him with the innocence of a deer. Bambi meeting the grin of the big bad wolf. </p><p>"Where are my manners? Y/N this is my boss, so I guess that makes him your other landlord huh? This is my boss, Mr. James Barnes." </p><p>Bucky stood from behind his desk, navy suit on full display. He took your outstretched hand and just the small touch was enough to nearly make him unravel like a goddamn teenager. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes." </p><p>"It's only Mr. Barnes when someone owes me something. Call me Bucky, sweetheart." </p><p>Bucky, how cute. Certainly didn't match his persona of the almighty landlord but sure. You'd bite. "Pleasure to meet you, Bucky." </p><p>"Got time to chat?" Scott wasn't as stupid as Bucky had thought. He deserved a pay raise. </p><p>"Not today. I'll bring some cookies by to make up for it." </p><p>Was he disappointed? Yeah a little, but he made much more progress than he had anticipated. Besides, there was only so much he could do before you caught on, and he decidedly wanted to gain your trust before you got too spooked. </p><p>You seemed to skip away, carrying the small box with the eagerness of a child. Greeting your neighbor-a fumbling college student (Peter?) a little younger than you- with a flashy grin, you tucked inside your apartment. Keys placed in the dish by the door, heels kicked off with a freeing groan, purse hung on the coat rack. </p><p>Grabbing the scissors from your desk, you sliced open the tape. Sorting through the dainty pink tissue paper, you felt a thump in your chest. Your heart pounded against the ribcage that ensnared it. No. </p><p>Cocooned in the protective layers of paper was your teacup. Well, a replacement anyway. The shattered remains you had managed to salvage from that night were immediately tossed away as a means of cleansing yourself. But now, here was one in tact. Any other occasion, the white porcelain with gold trim and tiny blue forget me nots would have brought a smile to your face. Now, you struggled to silence a scream. </p><p>This meant they knew. Whoever or whatever was happening in the alley below knew you had been out on the balcony that evening. They were cashing in now, pulling you into whatever was happening and it terrified you. </p><p>Perhaps what was more immediately terrifying was you were alone and yet you felt that you hadn't been in a long time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Never had a teacup meant so much to you. Not in the sentimental "I will treasure this until I die" way but the "my life is about to be fucked" sort of way. And not the good fuck, not the thrill that trembled down your spine when you locked eyes with your college boyfriend (he wouldn't watch you, would he? No things had ended well all things considered). No, this was the bad kind of fucked. The "Jesus take the wheel" fucked. </p><p>So the teacup remained in the package wrapped tightly in bubble wrap. For safe measure, you stored it in the back of the closet behind your winter coats and scarves knitted by family members you never cared for. A temporary fix at best. </p><p>Two days passed, leaving you dissociated. You caught your usual train, read the same stories at story time, visited the same coffee shop, but it wasn't really you in control. Auto pilot was getting your through it. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism, if you were numb long enough you wouldn't have to be paranoid because paranoia meant whoever it was won. </p><p>You had a mental list of who it was and after having ruled out your ex-who offered to come stay and maybe you should have taken it- your list consisted of whoever the fuck was in that alley. The issue now was finding out who or if you even should. Logic said to stay out of it and maybe that was for the best. </p><p>Ultimately, though, you decided to ask around. Everyone at the library seemed appealed you'd suggest such a thing, lips pursed thin.  Peter and his girlfriend MJ gave firm negatives to anything suspicious going on but assured you everything would be alright. Whatever alright meant. So you settled with asking Scott on your next mail run. </p><p>The office bell jingled overhead as you stepped inside. September brought a crisp breeze that ruffled the hem of your skirt as you entered. "Howdy Scott!" </p><p>Scott emerged from the back, smiling as always. "Y/N, hey how are you?" </p><p>Terrified. "Good but busy, haven't gotten the time to bake those cookies yet." </p><p>"Damn." The gritty voice of Bucky Barnes filled the office. He emerged from the same back area as Scott. Bucky had forgone the suit jacket this time, opting instead for suspenders. "I was hoping to get one before he eats them all." </p><p>With a dismissive hand, you smiled sheepishly. "I'll get around to it." You fumbled with the mailbox key, dropping it before your feet. Immediately, Bucky was there picking them up and placing them tenderly back in your palm. He was closer than before and smelled intoxicatingly good. Tobacco clung to him in a way his cologne couldn't hide. Manly. Tough. </p><p>"Thank you." Bills filled your little mailbox, a catalogue, and a reminder to register to vote. Flipping through the mail if only to stall enough time to get courage built up, you shut your mailbox and crossed to the reception desk where Bucky and Scott stood. </p><p>"Can I ask you all something without sounding like a paranoid woman who lives alone?" Bucky fought the temptation to smirk. </p><p>"Sure thing, sugar." He threw in a wink for good measure. </p><p>"I love the complex and neighborhood, don't get me wrong, but has anyone complained of suspicious activity in the alleyway?" </p><p>Scott shared a glance with Bucky. Both men shaking their heads. "No, not lately. Why?" </p><p>Bucky prayed you weren't a snitch. Sure, part of him was a sadist who wanted to see you feel the fear a shakedown could bring; the other part of him needed to see you could be loyal. He had plans, albeit no traditional plans, but plans nonetheless. Being a single Don was wearing him thin, he couldn't take much more. </p><p>"Ah, well, guess I'm still not fully acclimated into city life yet. None of my business anyway." </p><p>Knocking his knuckles on the countertop, Bucky made his decision. "Living in the city can be a lot for someone who isn't used to it. Especially if you're living alone. Hell, I've lived in Brooklyn all my life and I nearly pissed my pants I was so scared my first night in my own apartment." </p><p>"Yeah yeah." Scott chirped in. "I lived in my van for a bit too, talk about scary shit." </p><p>"You're safe here." Bucky's thumb stroked the back of your hand ever so slightly. "And if you ever feel unsafe or need something" he pulled out his wallet and removed a business card "call me. I'll be here in no time." </p><p>Taking the card along with your mail, you retreated to your apartment dissatisfied. No one might have believed you or saw anything, but you knew you did. They knew you did. You knew that they knew that you did. At least you had Bucky to make you feel secure. </p><p>Watching you leave, the breeze rustling your skirt, Bucky let out a low whistle. "Damn this is going to be worth it." </p><p>Scott rolled his eyes. "I know it's fun boss, just make sure she doesn't get too spooked. She's a sweet girl." </p><p>Bucky nodded, licking his lips. "I know, I'll be careful." He retreated back to his second office, temptation running through him. Settling into his desk chair, he propped his feet up on the oak desk. His thoughts traveling to you, alone in your apartment. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall. He could make it happen of course but even he had boundaries. After all, he needed you to trust him. </p><p>His phone pinged with a text, pulling him from thoughts of you running to him for cover. <i>Are we still a go? </i></p><p>The kid was always so eager. <i>Postponed a week. Need more time so be less suspicious. </i> Bucky Barnes could be a patient man if the price was right...and you were.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You experience a series of unfortunate events.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Missing your train was just the latest in a series of unfortunate events that happened to you in the past week. Things started to spiral when your smoke alarms decided it was time for new batteries and beep insufferably. The kicker is you couldn't even reach the damned thing to dismantle it so you had to make the walk of shame to Scott's office to ask for help for a smoke alarm. To make matters worse, Barnes was just leaving as you were entering. The minute he heard of your plight he had the audacity to chuckle (tall guys can just fuck off thanks) and follow you to your apartment to resolve the situation. </p><p>Scott was typically the one in charge of maintenance and had visited your apartment on  multiple occasions to make repairs. Nothing felt unusual about that, Scott was safe. Not that Bucky wasn't safe; he just seemed to suck the air out of the room. His presence was heavy, appealing, and he was in your space. He rolled up his sleeves giving you a glimpse of his arms. Both were thick and strong, clearly full of power. </p><p>With ease, he stretched an arm up to dismantle the alarm. "Got batteries, sugar?" You scurried to your junk drawer and pulled out enough batteries for both alarms. </p><p>"Here you are, sir." Sir? Sir? Oh god what was this. Bucky bit his lip, trying his best to focus on the smoke alarm and not how your big Bambi eyes stared up at him while calling him sir. </p><p>You were painfully aware of the state of your apartment. It was clean, sure. But it didn't look lived in. This was your space but clearly not a permanent one. "The other one is in my bedroom." </p><p>Your mattress lay on the floor, storage furniture scattered around the room. A couple of plants basked in the evening sun on the window sill. Posters lined the walls that Bucky could only find fond about you. How small and innocent, truly insignificant your life was compared to his. No photos of family members, a couple with some friends scattered about, the life before New York was gone which meant you wouldn't be missed. </p><p>"Need anything else while I'm here?" His brown hair fell in careless pieces from a bun at his neck as he twisted the alarm back into place. </p><p>"I didn't think landlords handled such things." </p><p>"I make a decent handy man. I'm a good problem solver." Oh how excellent he was. "Besides, pretty little lady like you doesn't need to worry about her apartment." </p><p>Heat rushed to your cheeks. He thought you were pretty? Wowie. "Well, if something comes up, I have your card." </p><p>He winked and let you escort him out, stopping to grab a cookie out of your cookie jar for good measure. </p><p>After the smoke alarm incident, your mother called which was an unwelcome do surprise. So much so you considered therapy again but one look at your bank statement was enough to deter you otherwise. </p><p>Smoke alarm, mother, and now a missed train. It had only been a little over a week since the tea cup incident and yet it felt like ages ago. You decided on walking home, deciding you needed to toughen up and embrace life in the city anyway. </p><p>Purse off your shoulder, arms filled with groceries for the week, you ventured up the steps to your floor. Not a second after stepping foot on your floor, you were met with a panicked looking Peter and MJ. "Y/N!" They yelped rushing toward you.</p><p>"What?" </p><p>"We just got back from dinner-" Peter began </p><p>"Which you were late for-" MJ grumbled. </p><p>"And found your door busted open!" </p><p>"What the fuck? Seriously?" You nearly dropped your groceries if it hadn't been for Peter. He grabbed them while MJ wrapped you into a hug. While not particularly close with either of them, they were a small comfort. </p><p>Shaking, you let them guide you into their apartment. You hadn't been in before and under better circumstances you might have made pleasant remarks, but you were terrified. Peter rushed around with a tea kettle while MJ stood watch by the door. "Do you want to call the police?" </p><p>You shook your head. "Don't like cops." You missed the fond look exchanged between the two. "There is someone I'd like to call though. One of the landlords, Mr. Barnes." </p><p>"Mr. Barnes is the best!" Peter chirped emerging from the kitchen with a mug in hand. "He'll help you out." </p><p>"Why don't you stay here and call him? In case someone I'd still over there." MJ ushered Peter out of the room. </p><p>With a shaky breath, you pulled out Bucky's business card and dialed the number. It took several rings before he answered. "Hello?" His voice was gruff with uncertainty. </p><p>"Um, hi, Mr. Barnes?" Your throat was tight and hot tears pooled in your eyes. </p><p>"Y/N? Is something wrong?" </p><p>"Um, well, I think someone broke into my apartment. I'm at Peter Parker's right now and his girlfriend is here too, I just didn't know who else to call." </p><p>There was a pause. Just long enough for Bucky to send <i>well done </i> to the kid. Pete performed beautifully. "Stay there, sugar. I'll be over and we can look at everything then." </p><p>Bucky stayed on the phone until you had sniffled yourself into a state of calm. He was close now, close to getting everything he wanted. Soon enough he could pull you into his world, to Steve and his family, and you would belong. </p><p>Straddling onto his bike, it roared to life and he was on his way to you. When he arrived, he found you between Peter and MJ, their arms wrapped behind your shoulders. If it wasn't already clear to him, Bucky knew now that the family needed you as much as you needed them (you just didn't know that yet). </p><p>The four of you ventured into the apartment, you clinging to Bucky's leather jacket. "Anything missing?" </p><p>You peeked around. "No, maybe, I need to check my closet." Running to your coat closet, you peeked inside finding the box gone. "Yes. Remember that package? It was a tea cup and it's gone." </p><p>"But nothing else?" Bucky searched your face for any sign of fear, finding a hint of relief to be rid of that teacup. You shook your head. "First thing in the morning, Scott will come by to change the locks." </p><p>Peter and MJ took their cue, "We'll be next door, just call if you need something." </p><p>"If it's alright with you," Bucky shrugged off his leather jacket revealing a tight black t shirt that rode up his tummy ever so slightly revealing the glimpse of a happy trail, "I'm going to stick around to keep an eye out. This hasn't happened in my building before I just want to make sure you're okay." </p><p>You nodded shuffling around your apartment. "Make yourself comfortable." And he did. Long after you went to bed, he pulled out his phone and accessed the camera feed. He slipped a hand down his boxers at the sight of you in bed breasts rising and falling beneath the sheets.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The morning after.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up to Bucky and Scott bickering in hushed tones as they changed the lock on your door was the only reminder left from the shitshow that had been the previous evening. "Boss man, I'm not telling you how to do your job but I know that ain't right." </p><p>"Scott, you drive a cockroach of a car." </p><p>"Completely irrelevant to the task at hand." </p><p>It was almost sweet seeing Bucky like that. You were almost to the point he didn't overwhelm you with his presence. Or at least in the bad way. Overwhelmed was certainly a way to describe the sensations rushing through your veins at his bulging muscles in his t shirt. </p><p>You lingered in the living room, thankful you fell asleep in your clothes from the previous day. The idea of standing in front of Bucky exposed was too much to handle this early. You weren't entirely sure how long you stood there before "Coffee?" fell from your lips (not even sure you said that). </p><p>"Black please." Of course he took it straight. Probably drank bourbon straight too. "Scott doesn't need the caffeine." </p><p>"Makes me shake and the world's greatest landlord" Bucky raised an eyebrow "the second greatest landlord can't be shaky." </p><p>Bucky didn't stay long. He finished his cup and provided strict instructions to call in for the day off. If anything happened, he would be in the office. As tired as you were, you didn't mind taking the sick day. The kids deserved a perky librarian. Besides, you needed to bake those cookies for Scott anyway. </p><p>Dean Martin crooned from your turntable as you seemed to dance around your kitchen. Growing up, you always craved the simple things, the vintage way of life. Not to be misunderstood, you firmly support progressive values and rights, but something about being old fashioned just fit. Reid had thought so back in college. </p><p>It wasn't often you thought of Reid, though since your move to the city and every unfortunate event since, your mind seemed to wander. Reid was safe. Reid was back home in the middle of no where Kentucky balancing a 9 to 5 and a farm. Farm life could suit you. Things hadn't ended terrible... </p><p>The time pulled you from visions of the bluegrass and back to Brooklyn. Carefully pulling the cookies out of the oven and setting them on the rack to cool, you headed for the shower. Poor Scott and Bucky didn't need to be subjected to your third day body. </p><p>Clean and fresh, you slipped into a sweater and leggings. Plating the cookies and scribbling a thank you note, you headed toward the office. Peter was carrying a bag of takeout as you passed. "Any updates?" </p><p>Shaking your head, you offered a tight smile. "They changed the locks. Who knows I might just be the unluckiest woman in Brooklyn?" A joke of course, you know things could be and are a lot worse for others but the hits just weren't stopping for you. </p><p>"Or the luckiest." Peter winked as you waved him off. Sweet kid, still clinging to the naivety of college. </p><p>The office wasn't busy. Scott had an impressive pile of paper airplanes on his desk. "Prototypes." He laughed, knocking them to the floor to make room for the plate of cookies. "Finally brought me my cookies, I see?" </p><p>"Finally." </p><p>"Quite teasing my tenant and let me get a cookie." Bucky emerged flashing his wolfish smile. Something twinkled in his blue eyes, something new you hadn't been witness to before. Anticipation? Surely he wasn't that excited for your cookie. </p><p>He leaned on the desk, legs crossed, one hand tucked in his pocket. Damn it if he wasn't attractive. "These taste so much like my mother's." He reached for another, "You must keep your boyfriends spoiled rotten." </p><p>The shift in the room was noticeable, it had to be. All the air in the tiny office seemed to get sucked away. Personal boundaries, what little had remained, were gone now. He wanted to get personal with you. </p><p>"Haven't had any to spoil since moving here." Had you said that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid Bucky with his stupid hair and stupid smile and stupid blue eyes and stupid bulky arms that...down stairs brain and heart were clearly in control despite the uncertainty around you. </p><p>Bucky smiled like that cat that ate the canary. "Is that so?" His head titled ever so slightly as his eyes slowly raked up and down your body. God, things were looking up for him. He'd have to thank Stevie for praying for him. "No boys spoiling you either?" </p><p>Hot, it was unbearably hot in the office. Tugging at the collar of your sweater you squeaked out a "Nope." </p><p>The smack that echoed startled you. Bucky slammed his hand down on the counter with a grin. "No wonder you're having such rotten luck. You haven't had a nice New York fella treat you right." He dared a few steps closer to you. "I just happen to know one that is available." </p><p>A car honked outside. "Oh?" The car honked again. </p><p>"Me." At that moment, the bell above the door chimed. "Buck, you ready?" That voice. You knew that voice. The hairs on your neck made you wince. Instinctively you turned to look at the door and you immediately you wished you hadn't. </p><p>One of the men from the alley, the tall thick blonde stood before you. He smiled just as wolf like as Bucky. Time slowed to a halt as you shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting between the two men. If this man, this monster, knew Bucky then...</p><p>Calloused fingers titled your chin up towards him. Bucky's breath, sweet and earthy, filled your senses. "I'll pick you up for dinner tomorrow at 6, sweetheart." </p><p>It wasn't a request, this was not an offer. Bucky didn't request, that was clear now. You had no choice.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dinner with the devil.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thinking too much was a fault of yours. Once a single seed of something bad or something rotten worked its way into your head, shaking it was impossible. The seed sprouted, growing into a vine with thorns that twisted and stabbed into whatever sweet, sacred things remained. </p><p>Bucky's vine was thick and gnarly, the type of thing that would thrive in the dark as a means to keep people locked away in a tower or just you. Yes, you were stuck in the tower that was the apartment and were to remain so until  he called upon you. </p><p>He arrived promptly, dressed sharply. "Doll." He had the audacity to sound amazed  at the sight of you. "Lemme get a look at ya." His fingers laced through yours, spinning you around. The skirt of your dress swished around your hips. You regretted not wearing pants. Or a brown paper sack. Or jumping out the balcony that caused this fucking problem to begin with and make a run for it. </p><p>"You're beautiful." There was a pregnant pause, a soft clearing of his throat. Compliments must work like favors, he can't give without getting. </p><p>"You look dashing as always Mr. Barnes." </p><p>"Oh fuck, we aren't back to that are we? You don't owe me anything, sugar." </p><p>"Don't I?" Grabbing your purse, you walked to the door. "Well, show me a good time." </p><p>He chuckled lowly. "I can take care of that." </p><p>You'd expected Bucky to show up with full force, a driver perhaps some security. He had all but written "I am a mob boss" on his forehead yesterday so you were surprised when he led you to a motorcycle. </p><p>"Spread your legs." </p><p>"Listen here you fucking-"</p><p>"Easy darling, I don't want your sweet little legs getting fried to a crisp because of the exhaust." Oh. Well, he didn't have to have the stupid grin on his face. You'd even take him screaming and over exerting his power than staring at you with a dumb grin. </p><p>Tenderly, as if you were the only gentle thing he cared about, he clipped your helmet in place before swinging his sturdy thighs over the seat and revving the bike to life. "Hang on tight, sweetheart. It'd kill me if you fell off." </p><p>Like, okay? He's killed people, probably for a lost less you'd seen The Godfather, you knew about this sort of thing. Why did you matter? You were an expendable librarian who had the worst luck. </p><p>Surviving dinner was your goal. If you could get through the evening without fucking up or suggesting any sort of possibility of something more happening or skin being exposed in any fashion.  Still, some part of you-the lonely part, the gentle part- enjoyed the minutes spent clinging to him and the firmness under his shirt. </p><p>The restaurant wasn't surprising. A stately building illuminated with classic round bulbs, white table cloths, red napkins, private booths, and a fully stocked wine room. Reid had always liked wine. Admittedly, you were both too poor to ever step foot in a place like this but just the thought shot a pang through your heart. </p><p>Bucky led you to one of the afore mentioned private booths, flashy grins and showing off your hand intertwined with his to the other patrons. </p><p>"Not bad for a boy from Brooklyn, huh?" So he owned this place too. Shocking. </p><p>"Just a boy from Brooklyn?" </p><p>"Just a girl from Kentucky?" You knew damn well you hadn't told him that. Or anyone in New York that. "It's cute the way your thoughts just roll in front of your eyes. I did some snooping when I was in your apartment." </p><p>Of course. "Gotta say, it must be lonely. That fella in some of your pictures, he didn't follow you up here." </p><p>"No. I'd appreciate you not discussing him or anything you snooped through in my apartment." </p><p>"Not that it'll be yours for very much longer." He was so casual about it, like one would talk about the weather. </p><p>"You're kicking me out? You can't do that." The bastard had the nerve to laugh. Laugh at your misery, your fear. He probably had it set up, planned to take you out like the Queen killed Diana. </p><p>"No, Y/N, I'm not kicking you out." He reached across the table to stroke his thumb over your trembling hand. "You're much too valuable to me to stay in that apartment. You can be honest they're shit." </p><p>Bucky stretched back in his seat, lit a cigarette, and rubbed his stomach leisurely. "You're smart and scared which means when you come down to it, you're loyal. And loyalty is..." He took a deep inhale of your skin. "Sexy." </p><p>"You want some wine?" </p><p>"No thank you, I'd like to get through tonight sober." </p><p>"God you're so respectable." He flicked out the cigarette in an ash tray a waiter rushing by had left. "That's why I knew when I saw you I wanted you in my life. You are perfect for this life." </p><p>"This life?" You nearly choked on the water. "That sounds like a commitment. This is the first time I've ever been with you and you alone." </p><p>There was that stupid grin again. "Except the night in your apartment." </p><p>"Doesn't count. You were probably involved." </p><p>"So fucking smart. I always knew my old lady was going to be smart." Before you could interrupt or jerk your hand away from its place on his cheek, dinner (that he ordered ahead because apparently when you're that powerful you can) was served. "Now listen, doll, I'm a hardworking boy from Brooklyn. Served my country and now I serve this city and myself. I might be a little fucked" he pointed a finger to his temple, "but I'll treat you like a goddamn queen." </p><p>He released your hand and motioned to the food before you. "No more shakedown shit, now tuck in."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A nightcap with Bucky.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Naively, you hoped the evening would end with dinner. Yet, you weren't the slightest bit surprised when Bucky insisted on a nightcap at his place. Another ride on the motorcycle chilled you to your bones and the silence didn't help. You couldn't find words if you tried while Bucky seemed to bask in the power the silence had. </p><p> Shaking from the cold (a fear, how could it not be fear), you followed him into the Victorian brownstone. The house was nice, more than nice, beautiful and warm everything Bucky clearly wasn't or were you lying to yourself? Bucky removed your coat, hanging it beside his on a hall tree.</p><p> "Poor baby's cold." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. His hands, one calloused the other exceptionally smooth, ran up and down your arms quickly. "There's a fireplace in the living room, Stevie keeps it tended to." </p><p>The living room was grand, covered in wallpaper that would have been tacky and outdated if it didn't belong to a man of Bucky's nature. A fire was going illuminating and warming the room. An exceptional large sofa sat before it with a small table filled with steaming beverages. "You still wish to remain sober, doll face?" </p><p>"Yes." You sat down on the plush sofa as he handed you a steaming cup of coffee. "Thank you." Deciding it was in your best interest to play dumb, you ignored how he had poured just the right amount of the holiday creamer you liked. </p><p>Sipping the coffee, you looked everywhere but at him. Though, he was everywhere. Photographs lined the mantel of him in uniform with the blonde man, him with a large group and fuck it hurt to see Scott's face, Bucky with a girl who looked just like him and an older woman who looked endlessly gentle, and finally the one that made you gasp ever so softly, him in uniform saluting as a Purple Heart is pinned to his lapel left arm notably absent. </p><p>"Pretty decent  prosthetic, huh?" He flexed the arm in front of you. "Government happily sent me to war but once I cam home I was on my own. My man Sam works at the VA as a therapist and even he couldn't help." </p><p>"That's awful they'd do that do you." </p><p>He shrugged. "The Stark family wanted a truce, he went soft, so I got this nifty thing out of it." </p><p>"Stark? As in Tony Stark?" </p><p>He chuckled, a low beautiful sound. "Smart cookie. You're catching on." His presence was thick as he hovered over you. "Corruption is everywhere. It all boils down to how you use it." </p><p>You nodded, only thing you could think of doing. Starting to stand, he grabbed your wrist giving it a tight squeeze. "Where you think you're going?" </p><p>"I think it's time I leave." </p><p>"Yeah." His grin was twisted, slanted, just not quite right. "No can do, doll face." Bucky titled his head, looking like a gentle boy as opposed to the tainted man before you. "See, when I came back stateside, in addition to loosing my goddamn arm, things weren't right up here." He tapped his temple. "When something helps, I just can't let it go. I started out just messing with ya." </p><p>The teacup was him. The apartment break in was him. It was all him playing you for what. "First, I was gonna ice ya." </p><p>You couldn't help but sob. Holding yourself, you trembled as he maneuvered himself around you stalking as if he was a panther. "Please no." </p><p>As if a switch was flipped, he stopped pacing and hurried to collect you in his arms. "No, hush now sweet girl. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I like you too much. Thought you were the prettiest gal I've seen in New York, hell in the whole wide world. I'm gonna keep you." </p><p>Somehow that was worse. The thought of the things he could do to you was enough to spark just the right amount of adrenaline to break away from his arms and running to the door. Laughter taunted you but damn you were determined until you scrambled into a solid body. </p><p>"Going somewhere?" The blonde man that started this whole damn thing scooped you into his arms, tossing you over his shoulder. "You really aren't good at making exits." </p><p>Futile attempts at punching him hurt you more than it hurt him. "Lemme go!" </p><p>"Y/N, this is Stevie. I don't think you've been formally introduced." Bucky grinned, hand in his pocket as he puffed a cigar as if nothing had happened. </p><p>"I thought a man named Stevie who liked fireplaces would have been nice. He's just mean and scary. You all are." </p><p>Steve grinned as he placed you back on the couch. "C'mon. I could've put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours but I didn't. That was awfully nice of me. Then, I turned Buck on to you which you're welcome for by the way." </p><p>You scoffed, crossing your arms still sniffling through tears. "Please, I'll move out. I won't tell anyone. I'll sign a contract!" </p><p>Bucky dropped to his knees before you, tilting your chin down to meet his eyes. They were a soft blue, twinkling almost. "Life as my woman will be the best thing to happen to you. I promise." </p><p>Giving your legs a squeeze, he flashed what you only assumed to be a reassuring smile. "Your things will be moved over tomorrow. What better time to move in than the holidays? The family always goes big." </p><p>"You'll get lots of presents, new members always do." Steve added presenting you with a small glass of a dark Amber liquid. "Bourbon. It'll help ya sleep." </p><p>Bucky held the glass to your lips, parting them so the liquid trickled down. "You'll get your own room for now  but it's right across from mine. It's in your interest to not do anything stupid." </p><p>You finished the drink, the warmth doing a little to ease your nerves. Dried tears itched your cheeks and you still sniffled occasionally when the two men decided it was time for bed and accompanied you up the stairs. If circumstances were different, literally any other circumstance, you'd love the house and the stairs and even that stupid bedroom, but they weren't. </p><p>So you curled up on the bed, eyes sealed shut and prayed to wake up in your apartment. Bucky kissed your hair and tossed a blanket over you as he left the room, keeping your door open and his so he could watch the rise and fall of your chest from his bed.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Life without parole.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Each day throughout the holidays was the same. Bucky would greet you at the threshold of your bedroom, a cup of coffee and a croissant in hand. You'd dress and join him downstairs which was alive with people.  Members of the family or associates or the occasional stranger would filter in dropping off presents, taking orders, or asking favors. Everyone wore the same dumb grin when they saw you in his living room as if you were a welcome addition. Bucky proudly showed you off to anyone and everyone pinching and poking your skin until you complied with a forced smile.</p><p>Then, in the evening as things mellowed to a manageable chaos, Bucky played Santa watching in delight as you opened presents and offered thanks from people you didn't know nor cared to. Afterwards, you'd retreat to bed, the door remaining open and Bucky's eyes stalking you in the darkness. </p><p>Despite showing you off, nothing more than a pretty thing to show his power, Bucky kept those who could socialize with you to a minimum. Minimum being Steve, Natasha, and Peter. </p><p>Natasha, who quite frankly simultaneously terrified and aroused you, took it upon herself to show you the ways of life as a mobster's lady. Behavioral expectations for women who found themselves in your position included but were not limited to: opening your home at ungodly hours to those who needed it, staying out of the way, looking perfect, and ignoring your mans faults. </p><p>"That's some Tammy Wynette bullshit." You scoffed from your seat on the mattress. </p><p>"Traditional isn't always wrong." </p><p>"You don't strike me as the type to submit." </p><p>The red head smiled smugly. She sat on the edge of the bed, closer than any of the others were permitted to. "I'm not." Her answer in all its simplicity enraged you. </p><p>"Neither am I!" </p><p>"You and I are not the same. You're role is much different than mine." </p><p>"I don't want a role to begin with." </p><p>"You'd rather be dead?" She left silently, practically a ghost in your room. Death certainly wasn't an option you'd consider or want him to explore. Still, anything seemed preferable to the gilded cage you found yourself perched in. Escape was futile; your phone lay tucked away in your purse which was hidden somewhere in this house. </p><p>To escape the thoughts that seemed impossible to stop swirling inside, you ventured to the living room. Bucky got off at having you close, something thrilled him of peeking out his office door and seeing you curled up on the plush velvet. </p><p>"Y/N!" Your name pulled you from the book Steve gave you (exactly the type of novel you'd read which churned your stomach). </p><p>Peter Parker stood in the living room holding a towel wrapped parcel in his arms. "Told ya that you're the luckiest woman in New York." He'd seen you a couple of times, but hadn't quite gotten around to saying anything. </p><p>Perhaps he was the greatest betrayal of all. He'd known Bucky in a more formal sense. How stupid you'd been to trust him, to seek comfort in him. A scoff left your lips. </p><p>"You don't think so?" His head tilted like a puppy. "I think Mr. Barnes is the best." </p><p>Before your opinion could be stated-you'd gotten really good at practicing it in the mirror really putting everyone in their place- Bucky emerged from his study. "That's why you're my favorite." His arm draped over your shoulder. </p><p>Peter blushed almost looking bashful at the comment, "I have that thing I borrowed. I wanted to drop it off sooner rather than later."</p><p>"Of course." Bucky waved a hand in dismissal. His attention seemed to flicker away from everything else once he entered your vicinity. It was suffocating. "Say doll, why don't you go put on something pretty and some wine to be chilled." Not a question and certainly not a suggestion. A squeeze of your shoulder and you nodded. </p><p>"Are you expecting company?"</p><p>His red tongue flicked around his plush lips. "No, I got dinner on the way. We're gonna have the house to ourselves tonight." Soft puffs of breath hit your ear sending shivers over your spine. "We've waited so long for us to have the house alone. Too many people around to do anything..." A pause as his voice dropped sensually, "fun." </p><p>A cold weight settled in your tummy. Avoiding his affections would only last so long, you knew that, but you naively hoped you could push it off for a little while longer. As if someone else operated you like a puppet on a string (isn't that what you were anyway), you complied with his requests. </p><p>What choice did you have? Natasha was right, as much as it had infuriated you, she was right. The looming threat of the smoking gun Peter returned forced you into compliance. So you dressed and grabbed a bottle of wine from the wine cellar (if you smashed it at the right angle would it kill him?). </p><p>Bucky paid the delivery driver and plated the food himself. Balancing two plates, he motioned his head toward the formal dining room. "Come along."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not sure how long this will be. Feed back is always appreciated! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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